


I Pray For a Good Harvest

by Bee_Kin



Category: Dollhouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bee_Kin/pseuds/Bee_Kin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of the Thoughtpocalypse starting from a different point of view but will eventually join the revolution of the L.A. Dollhouse crew. </p>
<p>I will update summary (the summary will get better!) / warnings / rating as I post more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Pray For a Good Harvest

# I Pray For A Good Harvest - Chapter One 

  
  
  


My fingers tremble slightly as I find the correct key among many. It's been a long day, a long week even, and I tell myself that it is just my nerves. 

_Illness_ , my brain tries to scream at me, _Disease!_

“Just nerves.” I whisper. 

Once the door is securely locked, I peek back into the room through the glass panes. Even though I do it every night, I'm still not sure why. The chair is empty, and to me it is a dead thing without a body to occupy it. I don't think that the chair is actually alive, even when the dolls are in it, don't worry, I am not **entirely** crazy....... ...but after the day's work is done and everyone is tucked in, here with the lights off, without its purpose, it could almost be a different object entirely. It could almost be just a chair. 

**Just a chair**. I shake my head. I really am in a twitchy mood, I guess. It genuinely had been a long week. I missed my normal Skype and coffee time with Bennet, one of the programmers at another house. We couldn't really talk about the details of our work (knowing that Rossum was surely listening to every single word), but we traded gossip and stories and tried to act like normal human beings in a normal line of work for a little while, and that meant so much sometimes. But ever since she met The Big Brain God, she had been a little loopy herself and not easy to reach. The last time we really spoke was when she told me in excited shorthand about their encounter. 

_“I cannot believe you actually met him. I thought he never left the house!” I had shouted at the screen of my computer. We weren't using names, we weren't using locations or even saying what really had occurred, but it was the way we normally spoke and I was reading her loud and clear. “What was he like?”_

_“A little more aggressive than I expected.” She turned her head a little and I could see a fading bruise. “He really cares about his work.”_

_My eyes popped open a little wider and I wondered what she had done, or what territorial pissing contest they had gotten into, that meant not only did Topher Brink leave his little hobbit hole, but had felt it was necessary to hit Bennet, the only other programmer even in his league. She didn't seem to be holding a grudge. In fact, she seemed a little smitten. “What else?” I asked her, taking a sip from my mug._

_“More attractive than I expected too.” She and I had both laughed._

I wondered if her recent silence had anything to do with meeting Brink. We didn't generally socialize, the different houses, unless there was a coordinated scenario at stake (which was how Bennet and I had become friends). I set the idea aside as quickly as it had occurred to me. She wouldn't blow me off just for a boy, and if it was something work-related, I would have heard through the normal channels of espionage and information trading that went on with Rossum employees. 

I was a little preoccupied with my thoughts as a walked down the hall away from the computer room. Idly, the fingers of one hand brushed the thick wooden slabs that made our house look rustic, like a summer cabin that might sit on a lake or up on a mountain. I hadn't really considered it before, but the logs and the thick overhead beams, the scent of woodsmoke that came in with our piped air, I did really like it. I appreciated the effort that had gone in to building our tranquil little womb. 

But....wait....something was wrong.....

I stopped in my tracks, as if my feet were suddenly stuck to the floor. That smoky smell, normally it was like there was a fire burning in a big fireplace, waiting for a pot of soup or marshmallows. Now it was like oil, or wires. My nose wrinkled up reflexively and I looked around. I didn't see any flames. I forced myself to move, one step after another, until I came out into the main room. Above me, offices and doors and the walkway. To my side, the staircase. In front of me, there should be comfy plaid and leather couches and scratchy throw rugs. Instead, there were dolls. 

All of them should be asleep, or out on engagements. We tried to keep everyone on a schedule when they were in house and none of them should be awake. But Aster, Holly and Rose were standing in a tight circle, looking as worried as I was becoming. Dolls shouldn't look worried. They shouldn't have anything to worry **about**. 

I put on my most reassuring smile as I approached them. Even if I was going to vomit from panic any minute now, they mustn't know. I actually felt a little better, now that I had something to do, a problem to solve. When I spoke, I made sure to speak slowly and calmly, in a low tone of voice. “Holly. Rose. Aster. You should be in bed.” 

They each turned so that they were facing me. It looked choreographed. “We had a bad dream.” Rose told me. 

Alarm bells started clanging in my head. At almost the exact same time, they started going off outside my head as well. Red emergency lights flickered on. Aster, the only male of the group awake, looked at them and then down at me. “We dreamed the sky was falling.”  



End file.
